


Twelve Nights of Chocolate

by agapecentauri



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux
Genre: F/M, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:15:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28155186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agapecentauri/pseuds/agapecentauri
Summary: Loosely based off the Christmas song "The Twelve Days of Christmas".  Nadir and Christine find themselves in a fluffy friendship which is built on the world of chocolate which melts two hearts.One shot/rare pair featuring Daroga/Persian/Nadir Khan and Christine Daae (Charoga).  Originally featured on Timebird84's POTO Advent Calendar on Tumblr.  Also submitted for notaghost3's winter/Christmas/New Year writing contest.
Relationships: Christine Daaé & The Persian, Christine Daaé/The Persian, Nadir Khan & Christine Daae, Nadir Khan/Christine Daae
Comments: 5
Kudos: 9





	Twelve Nights of Chocolate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Timebird84](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Timebird84/gifts).



**Twelve Nights of Chocolate**

_On the first day of Christmas, my true friend gave to me, a beautiful chocolate peppermint tree..._  
“Oh my goodness, this is so gorgeous and so creative!” Christine gasped as she turned the small candy tree on the table top. The peppermint candies swirled in a mesmerizing pattern, the aromatic fragrance of milk chocolate filled her senses. “I don't know how you do it! You spent too much time on this.”

“My darling friend, to see this smile is more than worth the effort. Besides, I wanted to show just how much I cherish our friendship. And this is just the beginning!” Nadir chuckled.  
* * *  
It was astounding how fast this year had gone and how quickly these two became friends. It was just a few days into the New Year when Christine stumbled upon this hidden treasure of a delicatessen in an unfamiliar part of Paris called Le Persan Parisien (The Parisian Persian). The previous year had been difficult for them both. Christine had not only buried her dear father but had also ended an extended engagement. So when the bell to the main entrance ting-tinged on that blustery January day, Christine had come to terms that she was bound to wander life alone. It wasn’t until she was greeted by this strange foreigner with perfectly salt and peppered hair upon her arrival that her heart just might have lurched ever so slightly and a shy grin graced her face.

Nadir had come to Paris on a dying request from his friend, Erik. “Come to Paris, dear old friend. Do this for me. My life has been cut unfairly short. You know this was my dream,” Nadir recalled the conversation years ago, as he placed a large pan of hazelnuts into a brick oven to roast. Nadir was a perpetual bachelor, and at 53 years old he figured his days of chasing the young ladies were long gone. He, much like Christine, had settled on his fate of living out the rest of his days a single man. He arrived in Paris almost 10 years ago from Persia on the promise to Erik to open a true Parisian delicatessen. Nadir had then discovered his passion for the art of a chocolatier. The sound of the ting ting from the delicatessen’s bell broke him from his thoughts. Grabbing a towel, he wiped his hands and began to greet this customer when he stopped suddenly at the young woman before him.

_On the fourth day of Christmas my true friend gave to me, four pralines, three bottles of homemade sirops, two creme brulees…_  
“Nadir, I will be 200 pounds before Christmas Eve in eight days! I can’t believe you’ve made everything from scratch. You have a true gift.”

“Again, my darling Christine, it’s the best way I know how to show you how much I adore you… your friendship.” He caught himself thankfully before she could notice the slip of his tongue.  
* * *  
It was late spring and these two were inseparable. Christine found herself coming to visit Nadir every evening on her way home from work. She purposefully adjusted her work schedule so she could have extra time with him. “Tell me, Nadir, about where you grew up.” Nadir grew nostalgic as they walked arm in arm around the blossoming trees along the old cobblestone streets. He spoke fondly of his parents, his siblings. “Do you miss your homeland?”

“At times I do but present company has been refreshing and a much welcome distraction.” He felt her arm squeeze into his more closely. He felt warm.

“What do you miss the most?” she inquired. Her favorite part of their conversations was how he described what things smelled like, the foods, the air, the warm hearths of the homes. His words were descriptive and his accent practically made the aromas waft from his body. She breathed him in.

“Saffron,” he stated almost immediately.

“I would like to try that someday,” she confessed. The very next morning, Nadir placed a special order for saffron to be delivered from Persia. It would take a few months, but hopefully it would arrive in enough time for Christmas.

_On the ninth day of Christmas my true friend gave to me nine miniature Baba au rhums, eight chocolate hazelnut eclairs, seven red velvet chocolate macarons, six chocolate madeleines, five chocolate croissants…_  
“You seem a little melancholy tonight, my dear. Is everything alright?”

“I just feel a little contemplative, I guess.”

“What’s on your mind this evening?” Nadir inquired as he brought a hot carafe of water, tea leaves, and two tea cups. He sat down and watched Christine spoon the tea leaves into the steeper. She seemed sad tonight.

She sighed rather forlornly, “Have you ever been in love?”

“Maybe, but clearly I’m not an expert since I’m now an old man and still not married nor a lover,” Nadir responded with a chuckle trying to lighten the mood. “Tell me, darling, what does your heart need?”  
* * *  
When Christine couldn’t come in the mornings, she would send a courier to the shop with a note to see if Nadir would accompany her for a walk in the evening. He always obliged. One evening, Christine blurted out as they walked hand in hand, “There is no possible way you are 53 years old! You don’t look a day over 40!”

Nadir laughed. “Surely, dear lady, I may have to kiss you should you choose to flatter me further!” He noticed how deeply her face flushed crimson. After bidding each other a pleasant evening, Christine thought to herself, “Surely this feeling is… it’s nothing. He didn’t really mean he’d kiss me.”

On the eleventh day of Christmas my true friend gave to me, an eleven-cheese charcuterie and pinot noir, ten chocolate meringues…  
“I hope you enjoy the pinot noir, it’s one of my favorites,” Nadir explained as the cold liquid splashed into their wine glasses.

“Mmm, this is delicious!” she said after the crisp, cold wine wet her palette. “I think I owe you an apology for the other night.” 

“An apology, Christine? Whatever for?”

“It’s not my place to speak of love and relationships. I feel I overstepped,” Christine said shyly. What she wanted to confess was that her feelings for him had gone beyond those of an endearing friendship.  
* * *  
Christine invited Nadir to her flat for Thanksgiving. Since neither of them had family, Christine wanted to prepare a special meal for him. They had a splendid evening together, and after dinner, the pair sat in front of a small fire burning in the fireplace, enjoying a lovely port Nadir had brought. Snow had begun to fall lightly when Nadir offered a walk along the Seine.

As they walked, the cold seeped through and Christine shivered. She felt Nadir’s arm snake around her back and pulled her close to keep her warm. They walked in silence, until Nadir heard a beautiful sound coming from Christine. “Darling! I didn’t know you sang!” he said rather startled.

“I only sing when happy and content,” she said, their steps began to slow and the snow fell harder. 

Nadir turned Christine in his arms and smiled. “Oh Christine, you’re a stunning woman. You offer this old man such happiness. If you’d permit me, I would like to do something special for you for Christmas.”

“You’re not that old,” she responded giggling. Nadir pressed a light kiss upon her rosy cheeks.

_On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love gave to me twelve small pieces of saffron-infused salted dark chocolate…. And a declaration…_  
It was finally Christmas Eve, the final night of Nadir’s 12 nights of chocolate gift giving to Christine. With each treat, Christine certainly noticed the extra effort he put forth, knowing that each treat was increasingly more complex and difficult to craft. Tonight, Nadir prepared for them a private dinner at Le Persan Parisien, a special meal before presenting Christine with her final gift.

They sampled and sipped multiple wines of all colors: robust and earthy reds, crisp and dry whites, and finally towards the end of the meal sweet and cold roses. “I have something for you,” Christine said, riffling through her bag. “I know you don’t celebrate Christmas, but for all the trouble you’ve gone through, I simply could not get you something in return.” 

“My dear, you are more than enough of a gift to me,” he said, gently kissing her hand. Christine smiled as she placed the wrapped parcel on the table. Nadir unwrapped it and smiled. She had commissioned a street artist to hand draw a portrait of them after giving him a picture to draw to their likenesses. “Oh darling, it’s beautiful!”

“That’s not all,” Christine said quietly and began to sing to him. Nadir leaned thoughtfully back in the cushioned bistro chair, the white Christmas lights warmly embracing them as he listened ever so intently to her voice. “You have the voice of an angel. Thank you, Christine, for the gift of your voice.” He leaned closely and kissed her cheek, but unlike before, this one was so much closer to her lips than her actual cheek. Biting at her bottom lip, her face flushed at the words she wanted to say. “And now, for your final gift,” Nadir said as he got up from the table and went to the back.

Christine watched bashfully as her eyes swept over Nadir’s figure. His perfectly tailored suit hugged his body in all the right places. His wavy salt- and pepper-colored hair was combed back, his spectacles resting astutely upon his olive-tinted face. He was charming, polite, soft spoken, witty, and a well-aged gentleman. He was like a fine, rare wine, and when opened up, smooth and rich, leaving one feeling warm and satisfied. The plate clanked onto the table, a small paper doily covering the treasure underneath.

“Remember earlier this spring you ask what I missed the most about Persia?” Nadir asked as he moved the tea cups and saucers off to the side. 

“Saffron,” she replied, their eyes meeting as she watched Nadir’s face light up.

“Tonight, Christine, on this Christmas Eve, my gift to you… 12 pieces of saffron salted dark chocolate.” He uncovered the plate and picked up a small square of the chocolate. “Close your eyes,” he quietly spoke. Nadir watched as her eyes slid closed, her long lashes fanned out like soft feather. “And open…” his heart raced as Christine opened her mouth to welcome the morsel onto her tongue. Nadir swallowed down the hard knot clogging his throat. Her lips gently closed around the tip of his finger. A thrill shot through him.

The saffron infused dark chocolate melted slowly and the small granules of salt mingled with the heat from the foreign spice and bittersweet dark chocolate. Christine lazily opened her eyes to find Nadir studying her reaction with a smile. “May I have another taste?” she whispered, her palette sleek and wet with craving.

“Hmm,” he acknowledged, “Of course.” Carefully he picked up another piece of the chocolate, waiting for her eyes to slid close again. But she surprised him.

“Nadir,” she whispered, “another taste if you please.” He again fed her the saffron dark chocolate and this time her lips and tongue linger longer upon his fingertips. “Mmmm,” she murmured, “for the love of sweets I do believe this is the most decadent chocolate I have ever tasted.” She blushed as Nadir eyeing her thoughtfully clinging to her words. “I do believe...”

“Yes darling?”

“I do believe I crave even more.” Leaning over the small cafe table, Christine brought her hands to caress Nadir’s face, searching for something, either doubt or apprehension or perhaps permission. Her lips gracefully fall onto his. He can taste the saffron on her tongue.


End file.
